I recently reviewed some end user-authored use cases, and they -- of course -- reflect the way people actually work. The computer system was largely incidental to what they did.

Each use case listed half a dozen actors, had a dozen or more steps, and involved many off-line interactions among the actors. All of these are signs of business process definitions. These can be considered as use cases, but they are use cases written at a higher level of abstraction than a single application system.

What went wrong?

First, I think it takes training, spread over several days, to get a grip on use case writing. The core definition ("an actor interacting with a system to create business value") isn't obvious, even to professional business analysts. The basic features of "actor" and "interaction" require many examples, many writing exercises, and many group-level discussions.

The "business value" part of the equation is often a show-stopper. In an earlier experience with end-user use-case writing, we spent four hours discussing what "business value" really means. Time and energy get expended in pursuing what I call an "attractive sink" <{filename}/blog/2005/10/2005_10_31-notable_failure_of_use_cases_part_3.rst> that isn't really of any value at all. One of those sinks is the "Technology Workaround", another is the "Reviews and Approvals".

Documenting the Technology

The users had written a use case with dozens of individual steps. They received their source data on a CD. In those days, CD players were rare and specialized, and only servers had them. The nearest server was in Hartford, so they mailed the CD to Hartford where it was loaded onto a network drive. The data from the CD was FTP'd to the mainframe where a tape could be made. The tape was then shipped to another processing center where the actual processing happened. The result of that processing was FTP'd back to Hartford, where someone with root privileges could move the final result to a shared area that the end users could copy to their local file server.

Really.

And what was the business value? Somewhere in the word "processing" was some kind of algorithm that actually created something of business value. This was -- to the author -- so obvious that it didn't bear repeating in the use case document.

The more important question is "where is the interaction?" The use case didn't say what the actual business user really does to initiate this process, make decisions or take actions. The business value was lost in a welter of technology.

The users were focused on the Technology Workaround in this process. It took a long time to develop and it was deeply technical. To many people, the point of use cases is to capture the technology issues, not the creation of business value.

It wasn't until I threatened to walk out of the meeting, and walk over CompUSA ` <{filename}/blog/2005/10/2005_10_31-notable_failure_of_use_cases_part_3.rst>`_ to buy a CD drive that the people started to get the "business value" part of use case writing.

Threatening to go to CompUSA wasn't the "aha" moment, however. I had to write down the numbers. Six people times $50 per hour times four hours is $1,200. The CD player was $500. And that still wasn't the "aha" moment.

The "aha" moment came when they finally realized that IT would have proposed this from the very beginning if they'd only described the problem instead of insisting on this particular solution. To get to the "aha" moment, we had to review the various conversations that led to the implementation of the technical work-arounds. As they recapitulated the conversation, I provided the color commentary from IT's point of view. Mostly with comments like "why do they need that?" and "we don't know what problem this solves, but the users are demanding it."

Documenting Reviews

Many manual operations exist to check the results of other manual operations. There are two reasons for this:

  1. The manual operation is error-prone.
  2. The manual operation is governed by rules which are murky, incomplete, or too complex for one person to implement.

We cope with this by defining business processes with numerous reviews and approvals. In many cases, the reviews are legacy operations to prevent a recurrence of of some particularly visible mistake. In these cases, the manual operations that we are describing don't create value, they prevent loss, which is not quite the same thing.

We see the effects of these kinds of processes when the users document their off-line meetings, notifications; the Reviews and Approvals. They are capturing details for the things that are happening among human beings without support from an automated system.

What is the business value? The standard answers include "we have to notify everybody (or that person, or that team)." But if we probe a bit, "everybody" or the named person don't need the information to make a decision or take action.

Sometimes the answer includes "we have to be sure the results are correct." But the reason for incorrect results is the manual process that creates the results in the first place. Automating the process eliminates the need for all the checking and review. Some people are so enamored with the processes that they don't see the irony in writing detailed specifications for the exact processes automation is supposed to eliminate.

We might see a step in the use case like "when all five groups approve..." Which means that we don't have an actor interacting with the system. Instead, we have five similar interactions on behalf of five separate actors: each looks at the information, makes the approval decision, and responds to the system with that decision. Do all five actors need the same information? Doubtful. What is unique about each of these five brains that requires their participation?

The more interesting question -- omitted from the use case -- was what happens when someone vetoes the decision. If all five don't approve, then what? How are people notified? What is the interaction? Has it ever happened? What did people do?

What can we do?

What can we do to get the users on track, writing use cases that express their interaction with a system to create business value? How do we get away from describing the manual processes we're trying to eliminate?

In the case of documenting the Technology Workarounds, it's a hard habit to break. Many -- too many -- people think the business analysis job is to translate the business problem into IT techno-speak. In doing this, they generally presume a solution to a poorly-framed problem, and then document all kinds of irrelevant technical details.

Few -- too few -- realize that the business analysts job is to capture the business problem accurately and completely. So, one important piece of training is in recognizing and describing problems irrespective of your favorite (or despised) solution.

It helps to work on non-technology problems like moving topsoil into the backyard or finding out why the windshield wiper keeps breaking. Getting out of the technology framework can help develop the skill of isolating underlying problems.

In the case of documenting the Reviews and Approvals, it's difficult to separate the business process from the business value created by the process. However, with some training and practice, it's possible to distinguish between the cook, the toast, and the toaster used to prepare the toast.

In the restaurant setting, the distinctions seem obvious. But when users document reviews and approvals as part of the business value, they may have conflated preparation or presentation into the meal itself.

I like to ask the question "Are you describing the toaster or the toast?" The toast is an important part of the use case goal; it's the business value we are creating. The user will interact with a toaster. The trick is that neither of these are the central feature of the use case. The use case is about "making toast". The use case will be used to design a better toaster. The toaster, in turn, will be used to make toast.

Consequences

One consequence of getting away from technology workarounds is that many, many things get questioned. This, ultimately, is a good thing. However, it does lead to some frustration as people locate the boundaries of what can be questioned, and what cannot be questioned.

One consequence of separating the toaster from the toast is that we are often left with a dependency loop. A use case -- in a way -- depends on seeing a user interface. The user interface will be designed from the use cases. Which comes first, interface or use case? If we draw an interface to help the users write the use cases, we've -- in a way -- designed the entire application. Once we've drawn the interface, why bother with all the other work, why not just write technical specifications?

One way to cut this tangle is to draw UI sketches on paper. Use them to help visualize potential screens, displays, reports and buttons. Add, change and delete while writing the use cases. Then, throw the paper sketch away. Leave it to the GUI designers to craft a presentation that fits the use cases. It might reconstruct the sketch, or it might be a lot better.

It's important that people who write use cases are able to articulate the business value, and describe ways to create that value. Their job isn't to wrestle with technology, but to determine how people should interact with a system to create the value they're describing.